


Mouth Full of Spiders

by bananaquit, quixoticnotion



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Chameron, M/M, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananaquit/pseuds/bananaquit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticnotion/pseuds/quixoticnotion
Summary: Charlie writes a poem about a certain someone and the other boys get a hold of it. While they confront him about it, the subject of the poem overhears some misleading statements, leaving Charlie with the task of damage control—something that goes against his very nature.





	Mouth Full of Spiders

“Neil,” Meeks said quietly, a smirk on his face as he sat down across from his friend at the beginning of evening study hall. Pitts slid in beside him wearing an equally amused expression. Meeks tapped Neil on the shoulder and then extended an arm towards him, revealing a folded piece of notebook paper in his hand. Neil saw the redhead raise an eyebrow and couldn’t help but also let a smirk dance across his face. He didn’t know what was inside, but if Meeks and Pitts were sharing it and had looks like _that_ on their faces, it had to be good.

“What’s this?” Neil asked, already in the process of unfolding the page. Todd, who was sitting next to him, watched discreetly as he did.

“Found it in Charlie’s room while I was helping him with Latin,” said Meeks.

“Oh, what have we here?” Neil’s eyes and smirk both widened as he glanced over the page, quick to pick up on the fact that it was Charlie’s handwriting and the way the words were arranged. “Poetry,” he practically drawled, his tone singsong and teasing and secretive all at once.

“ _Love_ poetry,” Pittsie added, wiggling his eyebrows and pulling a goofy expression that made Neil have to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “Meeks said it was just lying on his desk.” Meeks nodded in affirmation. “And guess who it’s about.”  
  
Neil furrowed his brow, scanning the page in confusion. “Orange hair.. our room… chemistry...” he murmured as he read, trying to put the pieces together. He covered in his mouth and wheezed into his hand when the realization hit him. “ _Cameron?_ ” he mouthed once he was able to contain himself, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. Pitts and Meeks nodded yes while trying to keep themselves from snickering. It was then that Knox entered the study area, fashionably late as usual. Probably busy obsessing over Chris again.

Neil beckoned him over and Knox took the other spot beside him. “Knox, Knox, you’ve gotta see this.” Neil wasted no time in shoving the paper into Knox’s hands and filling him in on the juicy details.

“I thought they were enemies?” Knox spoke, bemused.

“Yeah, Knox, I’m sure _you_ know what’s going on. It’s not like you’ve had your head so far up your own ass over Chris you don’t notice anything,” said Pitts.

“That’s not funny,” Knox grumbled as the other boys chuckled.

“Gentlemen,” Neil interrupted, waving the folded piece of paper to get their attention, “We have business to attend to.”

 

* * *

 

Charlie entered his room and dropped his books on his bed. He was alone in the room, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Cameron was off doing one of his extracurriculars and wouldn’t be back for some time. They were going to study for tomorrow’s chem test, or at least that was the plan. While Charlie actually did accomplish some work when studying with Cameron, to say he was completely focused would be a lie. At first it was just their banter and teases, but as of late, Charlie found himself getting more and more distracted by his roommate.

They would be reviewing a question and Charlie would follow Cameron’s words until he actually looked at the other boy. Then he found himself lost in thought about his hair that he was always so determined to keep perfect, his freckles, and the color of his eyes. Charlie still hadn’t been able to determine their true color. They looked different depending on the light, sometimes hazel, sometimes blue, sometimes green, sometimes gray. It wasn’t that he was unafraid to look Cameron in the eyes, it was that he would simply never be able to tell without getting so close that there was no heterosexual excuse. Inevitably, Charlie’s gaze would drop to his lips, but they never lingered there for too long. Charlie knew he had to do something about… whatever this was, but that could wait until tomorrow night’s Dead Poets Society meeting when he shared his—wait. He was sure he left it on his desk, but—

Suddenly, the door burst open and Meeks, Pitts, Neil, Todd, and Knox rushed in. Charlie noticed that Meeks was clutching a familiar piece of paper that did _not_ belong to him.

 _I’ll kill him,_ Charlie thought to himself.

“Well, if it isn’t loverboy himself!” Neil cooed, making himself comfortable on Charlie’s chair. Pitts moved to the back of the room and leaned against the radiator while Knox took a seat on Cameron’s bed. Meeks pulled over the chair from Cameron’s desk and Todd was left awkwardly standing there as per usual. The boys had formed a rough semicircle around where Charlie sat on his bed. It felt like an intervention.

“I’ve been breaking girls’ hearts for years,” Charlie said smoothly. “I don’t see why you’ve waited until now to start calling me that.” He hoped that stalling could prevent what he knew was going to happen, but judging by his friends’ smirks, that was only making him look more idiotic.

“Cut the act, Charlie,” Neil said, taking the paper from Meeks and tossing it on Charlie’s lap. “When are you gonna tell him?”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Charlie asked. Meeks and Pitts exchanged a glance as his voice cracked.

“So,” Meeks spoke, leaning forward and biting his lip. “Cameron, huh?”

“No one’s gonna tell me what’s going on, huh? Pittsie? Knoxious?” Charlie’s words were strained. Pitts just shot Meeks yet another look and Knox shook his head, arms folded and a disinterested yet mildly frustrated expression on his face.

“C’mon, Charlie. You know what this is about. We read the poem, don’t play dumb,” Neil deadpanned. Charlie looked around at his other friends in quiet desperation, hoping someone was on his side here. Condescending stares were all he received in return.

“Let’s say I don’t. Humor me,” said Charlie.

“Do you like Cameron?” Meeks broke the awkward silence.

Charlie scoffed. “Are you serious?” he asked as he forced a laugh out of his throat.

“ _Charlie_ ,” Todd started as he sucked in an exasperated breath. He cut himself off before he could finish the thought, apparently deciding it was best not to speak up. He looked away uncomfortably.

“Just answer the question, Charlie.” Knox snapped, making a few heads turn towards him as he threw his arms in the air. Charlie wasn’t sure if he was genuinely fed up with the situation or it was just the massive levels of hormones that were so obviously coursing through his system as of late.

“No!” Charlie answered a little too fast. “No, I don’t like him.” He let out a dishonest chuckle. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

“Then who’s the poem about?” Pitts challenged. Pittsie somehow always managed to look the most disappointed in him. Not that Charlie cared or anything.

“No one! I made it up,” Charlie lied.

“Ch-Charlie, we know you like him,” Todd said.

“Todd, come on,” Charlie nearly pleaded, though his fake-confident tone didn’t waver and the disbelieving smile still stuck on his face. Todd didn’t reply.

“Just admit it,” Neil spoke, growing tired of his friend’s antics. “We’re not gonna tell him.”

“I’m not admitting to anything! I don’t like him.” It was only when a few seconds of shocked silence had passed that Charlie realized he was close to yelling. He let out another anxious laugh, completely unaware of who was approaching just outside the door.

 

* * *

 

Cameron made his way to his room with a hopefully unnoticeable skip in his step. So far, it had been a pretty good day. Just a moment ago he got an approving nod from McAllister and he was on his way to study for a test he was sure he would ace. Well, would hopefully ace, assuming Charlie didn’t distract him too much from actually studying. That was fine, though. Studying with Charlie wasn’t as bad as it once was. He could barely believe it, but Charlie actually seemed to have some semblance of respect for him nowadays, even mustering the humility to ask him for help (though not without a few weak insults thrown in). In fact, he started looking forward to the couple of hours they would spend over their textbooks (though he would _never_ tell Charlie that).

No, he would never admit he actually valued their weird, messed-up friendship. Neither of them had ever actually said anything about them being friends out loud, but Cameron assumed it was kind of an unsaid thing. At least he hoped so. They weren’t friends at first, of course. It was hate at first sight for the both of them. What started as flinging insults back and forth had grown into, well- he didn’t like to call it teasing, but he guessed that’s what it was. In any case, their interactions didn’t hold the same malice they once did. Their overall dynamic was unchanging, but whatever anger was behind it had significantly lessened over time.

Now that they were roommates and shared a space where they were often alone together, things had… softened. Cameron didn’t really feel the need to be so on edge around him anymore, especially when it was only the two of them. Occasionally, they would just… talk without hiding behind a facade of pretend anger. And sometimes, when Charlie would throw an “insult” his way and flash one of those horrible (charming) shit-eating (vaguely endearing) grins, something would sparkle in his eye and Cameron couldn’t help that the corner of his mouth would twitch upward a little and he would let out the tiniest huff of amusement despite himself and something warm would begin to expand in his chest and… probably best not to think about it.

When he was a couple doors down from his room, he stopped in his tracks.

“Really, guys? Cameron?” It was Charlie’s voice for certain, but it was tense and a pitch too high. Charlie was stressed? About _him_? Cameron silently moved closer to the door, bringing his head close enough to hear what was being said.

“Come on, how could I possibly like such a kissass? Besides, the only reason we’re even ‘friends’ is because of you, Neil. If he wasn’t your friend, I wouldn’t give him the time of day. He’s a good resource for studying, I guess, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s his only use. I hate the bastard. All he even cares about is his hair and his grades. He’s nothing special outside of being the most annoying person here.” A laugh. “He’s a fucking square. I can’t wait until I don’t have to listen to his constant bitching anymore.”

Cameron felt his legs turn to lead. He stumbled to the washroom as quickly as he could. Thankfully, no one was there. He turned on the faucet and tried to focus on the running water instead of his hammering heart and the ringing in his ears. God, he was so stupid. Of course Charlie felt that way about him. He felt a wave of nausea at his own naivety. Their whole relationship was always a joke to Charlie, but Cameron was too dense to notice because he let his feelings hide what was so obvious.

He cringed thinking about the moments they shared where he actually let himself be vulnerable or at least enjoy whatever it was between them. Like that evening a few weeks earlier. Charlie had long given up on studying in favor of teasing Cameron to what appeared to be no end. Nevertheless, Cameron insisted that they go back to work.

“You know,” Cameron had tried, avoiding the bits of paper Charlie was throwing at him, “If you don’t finish these questions you’re going to get demerits, right?”

“ _Oh no,_ ” Charlie drawled, leaning back on his chair and almost losing balance. Cameron snorted.

Charlie took that opportunity to aim a chunk of paper right between Cameron’s eyes. He quickly held up his textbook as a shield before continuing, “Seriously, while I would just love to see you get in trouble—”

“Thanks.”

“Like I was saying, while that would make my day, I would also feel somewhat responsible, so just finish the questions, alright?”

“Aww, you don’t want little old me getting in trouble? That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Richard.”

Cameron was ready to snap back at him, but seeing Charlie actually take his pencil from behind his ear and bring his attention back to the textbook made him keep quiet. By the time they finally finished, they were both stifling yawns and ready to go to sleep.

“Well, Cameron, I gotta say… thanks to your expert guidance keeping me on track, I might not actually flunk chem,” Charlie said, voice oozing with false sweetness. “What would I ever do without you?”

Cameron rolled his eyes and a silence fell over the room. It was by no means uncomfortable, and perhaps that itself should have raised alarms for Cameron about what he was letting this _thing_ between Charlie and himself become. Instead of dwelling on it, he pushed those thoughts away and got ready for bed.

After Charlie was in his bed, Cameron turned the light off and got into his own. Getting comfortable under the covers, he prepared himself for what he realized was their nightly routine. Sure enough, a moment later, he heard Charlie say in that same artificial voice as earlier, “Sweet dreams, cupcake.”

Without missing a beat, Cameron made his bitter retort. “I hope you wake up with your mouth full of spiders.” Now he wished more than anything he had actually meant it.

Cameron splashed his face with the cool water and rubbed his cheeks, unable to stop a sigh from escaping. Well, he supposed whatever this sinking feeling in his stomach was (calling it disappointment would have been admitting he’d ever hoped for anything at all, so he couldn’t call it that), he deserved it.

 

* * *

 

They were giving him those fucking looks again. Even _Todd_ looked like he didn’t believe him.

“We’re not _stupid_ , Charlie,” said Knox, who had apparently been convinced by reading the poem despite being completely oblivious earlier (or maybe just wanting to get this over with). Charlie scrunched up his face, holding back a comment about the irony of a statement like that coming from someone driven more by bodily functions than brains.

“You do realize we’re not leaving until we get an honest answer, right?” Neil spoke. “You’re not a very good actor. You _like_ him.”

“Fuck off, Neil,” Charlie said, crossing his arms and staring daggers at the wall. “So what if I do?” The admission sent a wave of muffled giggles around the room. “Knock it off!” Charlie snapped, leaving the room in icy quiet. “What does it matter? He doesn’t like me back anyway.” Charlie produced a pack of cigarettes from under his mattress and pulled a lighter from his pocket. He lit a cigarette quickly but fiercely, taking a short but deep drag. It was clear to anyone who knew him well that this was not the normal, suave method in which he usually lit up.

Neil tilted his head slightly. Charlie was actually being self-pitying? This was serious, then. “Are you kidding me? You flirt all the time.”

“We do _not_ flirt,” Charlie replied.

“Oh yeah? Then what do you call it when you say ‘make me’ and get in each other’s faces like you’re gonna start making out any second?” Neil challenged.

“Shut _up._ ”

“Make me,” Pitts said in his best Cameron voice, making Neil snicker.

“Look, he’s obviously into you,” Neil said when he’d finished.

Now it was Charlie’s turn to snicker. “Yeah, like Knox is into Pittsie.”

“You could read that poem at the meeting tomorrow,” Neil suggested, gesturing to the folded piece of paper.

“Who says I wasn’t already planning on it?”  
  
“ _Genuinely_ read it,” Neil clarified, knowing that whatever Charlie had planned wouldn’t be sincere. If Charlie read it like it was a joke, he’d just be covering up his true feelings and confusing Cameron even more.

“Genuine” and “sincere” were words almost alien to Charlie Dalton. He let out a dismissive _psssh_ sound, but when Neil’s gaze remained fixed on him, he relented quietly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Why don’t you just test the waters a little? Try making a move. Don’t give anything away, just see how he responds if you get a little less subtle than usual. If he’s not into it, you can just laugh it off,” said Neil.

Charlie grit his teeth, considering the idea. He finally turned back to look at his friend, his expression turning from one of thinly-veiled worry to one of determination. “Maybe I will.”

 

* * *

 

Charlie knew what he had to do. He would find Cameron (wasn’t he supposed to be back by now, anyway?) and… and what? Make some sort of spectacular confession? That would never work. If anything, it would probably piss off Cameron, or worse, he’d laugh it off. No, Charlie couldn’t trust that everything would work out by him making everything up along the way. He had to have a plan, or at least an idea of what to do. This wasn’t supposed to be so difficult... or maybe it was. Charlie had little to no experience in dealing with sincere feelings he had for another person. What if Cameron didn’t feel the same way? It would completely ruin their friendship and make their roommate arrangement extremely awkward, to say the least.

Despite those stresses, something in Charlie still buzzed with excitement at the thought that Cameron might feel the same way. After all, his friends did go out of their way to try and convince him he did. Wouldn’t it be worth it to find out? Wouldn’t taking that chance be the best way he could _carpe diem?_ It shouldn’t be too hard anyway, since the two of them had to study together as soon as Cameron stopped talking with a teacher or whatever it was that was taking so long. They would be alone in their room, leaving a perfect opportunity for Charlie to “test the waters”: flirt a little, maybe even try to get touchy with him. Nothing overboard, probably just brushing hands, letting their knees touch. Subtle but noticeable.

Determined, Charlie gathered his things and set out to find his roommate. He didn’t have to travel too far, since he bumped into the boy in question while passing the washroom from which Cameron was leaving. _Bumped_ probably wasn’t the right word, something closer to _crash_ might have been more accurate, judging by the fact that Charlie's books were now spread on the floor.

Not a great start, but that was fine. He quickly gathered his fallen materials and got back up, leaning against the wall in a way he knew looked suave.

“So, Cameron,” he started, then took a second to read the other boy. Cameron was standing completely still, perfect posture, of course, but something else. He looked tense. Charlie was sure that he would be laughed at for dropping his things, or at least get a teasing scowl from Cameron for bumping into him, but no. His face had no expression, but there was a hint in the way his jaw was set, a coldness in his eyes that Charlie had never seen before, not even when they, well, hated each other. Whatever he was planning on saying died in his throat, and instead, he tried again, “Ready for chem? We’ve got a long night of studying ahead of us, my friend.”

Charlie had no time at all to prepare for Cameron to snap, “I want to actually be able to focus and get work done so I can do well on the test tomorrow—something that’s next to impossible whenever you’re involved—so I’m going to study on my own.”

Charlie felt his jaw go slack, and before he could reply, Cameron moved past him, making sure not to make any physical contact, and after a few seconds, he heard the quick slam of their door shutting.

Standing alone in the hall with his books, Charlie made his way to the library to “study”, which he already knew would only consist of him staring at a blank piece of paper, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, by the time Charlie was on his way back to his room at the end of the day, chemistry was the last thing on his mind. Instead, it was still clouded with thoughts about Cameron.

What did he do to warrant whatever that was outside the bathroom? Not that Charlie was some saint who never pissed anyone off, far from it. But still, whenever he riled someone up, he always knew what he was doing and never had the intention of causing serious harm—at least nothing like that cold expression on Cameron’s face.

He crept to his room as if being quiet would somehow help. In front of the door, Charlie considered just asking if any of the others had room for him. The idea of facing Cameron filled him with an unfamiliar and relentless fear. Taking a deep breath, he placed a hand on the doorknob and twisted. The room was just how he left it, but now Cameron stood at his desk, packing away his work for the next morning. His back faced Charlie, and he didn’t turn when Charlie entered, but he did notice Cameron’s body tense the second he entered the room. Whatever small part of Charlie had hoped that everything would be back to normal and the past few hours didn’t happen at all disintegrated at that small change. The very air of their room seemed to shift to one of hostility. Great.

But if Charlie was anything, it was persistent, and he wasn’t about to play a game of silence he never agreed to in the first place.

“So,” he began casually, “How was studying?”

“Fine,” Cameron said flatly without so much as bothering to face him.

Usually, Charlie was able to say something sarcastic or funny to lighten the mood or just make conversation, but now he had nothing. He was lost. He figured he might as well try not to make whatever he caused worse and not force Cameron to talk to him when he so clearly didn’t want to. Cameron would talk to him when he was up for it. Charlie just hoped there would be a time when he was.

They got ready for bed in complete silence. Normally, turning the light off was Cameron’s job, since Cameron was ever so slightly closer to the lightswitch and Charlie couldn’t be bothered to walk the five feet to the switch (and if Cameron tried to force his hand, he’d only flicker the light obnoxiously until he made Cameron regret ever asking), but he was already in bed, back still facing Charlie. So Charlie was the one to finally plunge the room into darkness.

When he was in his own bed, mind still flooded with thoughts of the shadowy lump across the room, the quiet was heavy around him. They never flat-out wished each other a good night, but they always said it somehow, whether it took the form of a flimsy, harmless insult or a sarcastic, sickly sweet drawl. He thought of speaking, but his throat felt closed up.

As Charlie lay in his bed, darkness suffocating him and sleep a foreign concept entirely, it finally hit him.

 _He knows._ Cameron must have heard Charlie say he liked him. Of course that would piss him off—disgust him, even. He must think that Charlie was acting like his friend all this time, when in reality, he had about a dozen ulterior motives. Charlie shuddered. He felt like a fucking creep. Suddenly, all those times it must have looked like he was flirting with Cameron flooded into his mind, and it made him sick to his stomach. He even wrote a fucking poem.

It was all too much.

Charlie shoved his face into his pillow and tried let sleep come to him, but when it finally did, it brought him nothing but torture and restlessness.

 

* * *

 

The next morning was terrible. Neil, Todd, Pitts, Meeks, and Knox kept glancing and grinning at Charlie amidst the chaos of all the boys trying to get ready and fighting for a spot at the sink, looking for some indication of how things had turned out between the pair last night. Charlie responded with stony glares and the others got the memo to back off for now.

The conversation at breakfast was usual but somehow tense. Cameron and Charlie didn’t directly interact at all, barely even looking at each other. The atmosphere buzzed with anxious curiosity as the other Dead Poets tried to figure out what had happened to cause the uncomfortableness between the two without letting on that they knew anything. Confusion was the most obvious feeling in the air; the entire friend group could tell something was off. Cameron was obviously head over heels for him, so what could have happened to make things like this? It was entirely possible Charlie had messed up, but they all knew it would have taken a disaster even more spectacular than usual for things to turn out like this.

Still, the clock kept moving forward. Welton didn’t slow down for anything but death, and even then, the passage of time was only slightly hindered, the schedule only slightly altered before it was back to business as usual as if nothing had ever happened. The test Cameron was suddenly so dead-set on studying for came and went in a blur of words that Charlie couldn’t comprehend. He blindly marked answers and scribbled equations across the page, anger in every pencil stroke. What the anger was directed at, he wasn’t sure. Maybe at Cameron, maybe at himself, maybe at the fact he couldn’t think about anything on the page in front of him at all, maybe at the test itself, maybe at this dumb fucking school, maybe all of the above.

The most frustrating part of it all was that he _cared_. He didn’t care about anything; not Welton, not grades, not punishment. Freedom from care was freedom from fear, and living life without fear was a pretty damn good way to live. He liked to think that’s how Keating would want him to live, but Keating’s words had always been nothing but a convenient excuse. His friends might try to find genuine meaning in what the new English teacher had to say and maybe he was making a joke out of that sometimes, but that was their problem and he didn’t care enough to make it his. He’d deal with the consequences when they came to him. In Charlie’s mind, dwelling on what you had to lose was the best way to make sure you hurt the most when you inevitably lost it. He was rich and he didn’t care. He had friends and he didn’t care. The world was there to be taken for granted.

At least he _thought_ he didn’t care. He’d never really lost anything before.

But damn it, he cared about Cameron. Somewhere along the way he’d grown a little too attached to someone who was practically the epitome of caring and he didn’t know how or why. He hated it.

Thoughts rumbled like an angry thunderstorm in Charlie’s head. He clenched his fist and slammed his hand down on the desk with a loud thud, shattering the silence of the classroom. Many confused pairs of eyes snapped up to look at him for a moment before flicking back down to their respective papers.

The meeting tonight was going to be hell.

 

* * *

 

Night had fallen and Charlie dreaded the meeting he was about to attend. He could tell by Cameron’s passive-aggressive body language that his roommate felt just as eager. Charlie felt rage bubble within himself, and though he hated to admit it, the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He quickly blinked them away, but he hated himself for letting them exist in the first place. He fucked up, that wasn’t new. He let himself have feelings for someone who could never feel the same way. It hurt, but that didn’t make Charlie special. Tons of people faced rejection and they could handle it. Charlie should have been able to because he wasn't Knox, who thought that doubling his efforts would somehow _not_ make things ten times worse. He knew that there was nothing he could do to make Cameron like him and that he couldn’t bring their relationship back to what it was before, however much he wanted to.

How would he even go about doing that? _Hey, Cameron. Sorry for having a huge gay crush on you, won’t happen again!_ No, he just had to suck it up and go to the first of many uncomfortable Dead Poets meetings. On his way out the door, without really knowing why, he slipped the folded poem into his jacket pocket.

When he got into the cave, he realized that his spot between Pitts and Knox was also directly in front of Cameron. That meant whenever he was watching the speaker, Cameron would be right behind them, perched on that rock that stood higher than where the rest of them sat. Charlie could have positioned himself differently so he would face someone else, but that wouldn’t be ideal either. He still felt pangs of betrayal just looking at the others, which he knew was childish and not even their fault, but he still didn’t want to look them in the eye. He wished he could blame them for this whole situation, for making him say how he felt out loud, but he knew it would have come out eventually anyway. The folded poem in his pocket reminded him just how soon that might have been (even if he had told his poem in the joking manner he meant to, questions would have been raised by the others. He should have known better).

“‘I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately-’” Neil began. His voice wasn’t as carefree as it usually was during these meetings, and Charlie knew that was his fault. Still, Charlie couldn’t mistake a hint of hope in his friend’s voice, and he wanted nothing more than to be in his bed and away from all of this. He decided to focus on an interesting (and nonexistent) piece of lint on his sleeve.

Neil finished the passage, the meeting went on, and Charlie felt completely detached from it all. He didn’t even take the time to notice who was reading or what was being read. As the night went on, Charlie debated whether or not he should read anything. He always read an original poem and he knew they were all expecting him to read something tonight. Not just _something_ , actually. Everyone except Cameron had already read the poem he was planning on reading this meeting. Maybe if he read something from the collection of poetry, he could play it off like nothing was wrong. No, they would know something was up… but they would still know if he didn’t read anything at all, and there was no way he was going to read the poem he wrote.

Charlie sighed. No matter what, he was screwed.

It was getting late and they really should have been heading back, but the others were clearly stalling, trying to keep the meeting going until Charlie read his poem. Knox must have read whatever poem he wrote that was as creepy as it was pitiable three times. Finally, Neil took one for the team and quit beating around the bush.

“Charlie, do you have anything you want to read?” Neil’s voice held a trace of optimism that almost made Charlie feel worse than he already did.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Neil looked a little deflated at those words. He tried again. “But you always have something to read.”

Charlie was about to offer a shrug when Cameron spoke up for the first time that evening and everyone in the cave froze. “Well, you can never _tell_ with Charlie, can you? He’s just _full_ of surprises, isn’t he?” His voice was venomous. Everyone’s eyes flickered back and forth between Charlie and Cameron, wondering what the hell had gone down in their room last night. It seemed Cameron really _had_ rejected him. Why else would he be acting this way?

Charlie finally found his voice as anger rushed through him. Why did Cameron have to be such an ass about this? “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“I think you know,” Cameron snapped back. “It’s not like you care anyway, since I’m not even your friend,” he spat.

Charlie felt something in his eyes, so he rubbed at them with his hands. When he drew them back, they were wet. He tried to breathe in and collect himself, but only succeeded in sniffling loudly. Fuck. He ruined everything by not keeping his mouth shut, Cameron hated him, and now everything was so much worse than he thought it would be because everyone was here to see it. This caring thing really sucked.

Seeing Charlie’s tears, it was Todd who spoke up next. “You don’t need to be so hurtful. Just tell him you don’t like him back.”

Cameron only continued to raise his voice. “Oh, _I_ need to stop being—” He paused as he seemed to finally process Todd’s words. “Wait, what?”  
  
Charlie leaned forward and put his face in his hands, wishing for the first time in his life that he could just disappear. “Stop pretending,” he said, his words slightly muffled by his hands. He moved his palms away from his mouth so he could be heard, but still kept his fingers covering his eyes. “I know you heard me when I told them I like you. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I get that you don’t want to be friends with me and I’m sure we can get different roommates or something.” God, this was pathetic. He inhaled sharply, rubbing his eyes fiercely as he sat back up and finally forced himself to stop crying.

Cameron, on the other hand, had never been more confused. This had to be some kind of prank, Charlie didn’t _cry_. “I’m talking about when you said I’m a kissass and that you only spend time with me because of Neil. And if you’re making fun of me with whatever this is about you liking me, that’s seriously shitty of you.” Still, something about this seemed off. Todd didn’t seem like the type who would help out with a joke this cruel. Cameron turned to him. “Todd? Are you guys all in on this?”

It was only then that Charlie’s thoughts cleared enough to realize that Cameron had only overheard the meanest part of the conversation in their room yesterday. Charlie fucked up, but maybe he could still fix it. He pulled the poem out of his pocket as Cameron looked at the others incredulously. “Cameron.”

Cameron looked over at him and Charlie held out the folded piece of paper. Cameron wordlessly took it, brows furrowed in confusion. The other boys held their breath as Cameron unfolded the page and silently read the poem.

The poem was—well, the poem was definitely _Charlie_ . It was flirtatious, cocky, clearly written to impress him while also making Cameron wonder why he liked him at all, and almost… _genuine_. Genuine wasn’t a word Cameron associated with Charlie. Something still didn’t seem right. He folded it back up and stared at Charlie, refusing to let his guard down just yet.

“I didn’t actually mean that shit I said about you not being my friend.” Charlie’s voice was soft and ashamed, completely uncharacteristic. “I was trying to cover up for the fact that I _like_ you because these dumbasses wouldn’t leave me alone about it.” He couldn’t make eye contact with Cameron as he spoke.

There was a beat of silence. “Prove it,” said Cameron.

Charlie knew this was the one chance Cameron would give him. He stood up and crossed the cave to him, then began to lean in. Cameron stubbornly refused to move or even close his eyes for fear that this would all turn out to be some twisted joke until Charlie connected their lips. He let his eyes slide shut and unconsciously relaxed into the kiss. It was soft and sweet and so unlike anything he’d expected from Charlie because it was filled with feeling and not carelessness. Cameron found himself unconsciously leaning forward as Charlie drew back with a small, nearly-honest smile and an almost-awkward laugh.

“No spiders,” Cameron whispered.

The usual smug expression finally returned to Charlie’s face as the cave erupted in hoots and hollers. He suddenly whipped out his flashlight from his jacket pocket and shined it directly in Cameron’s eyes, making him flinch away and put up an arm to block the light. “What was that for?” Cameron protested.

Charlie grinned. “They’re green,” he said.

“What?”  
  
“Your eyes. They’re green.”  
  
“I’m breaking up with you,” Cameron huffed jokingly.

Charlie snickered and turned back to the others, gesturing as if to wave them out the door. “Alright, fellas. Meeting’s over, let’s go.”

Everyone moved to leave, but they stopped at the sound of Cameron’s voice. His arms were folded as he stared at Charlie with a smirk. “What, you’re not gonna read it?” he challenged.

So Charlie had no choice but to read the poem. He took the page from Cameron and positioned himself in the center of the circle of boys so he was facing Cameron. He gave an overconfident little bobble of his head and began. His performance was accompanied with exaggerated body language and fueled by the amused smiles and giggles of the others, voice half-sincere and half-careless, his hand tapping his leg to the rhythmic beat of the words.

“I can’t get close enough to find

The wavelength that your eyes

Reflect back out and into mine

They flicker every time I look

I see a different color

Can only get a glimpse

Your sunlight’s blinding

And from my angle, angel

Your hair is the same as a calcium flame

That orange sunset sets me on fire

You’re a Bunsen burner

And it’s warming up our room

Sharp and organized, categorized

You’re a periodic table

Got my electrons all disheveled

You raise my boiling point

We should experiment together

I’ll bring my stirring rod

Stick it in your beaker—”  
  
Cameron shook his head at this, letting out a breath and looking down to hide the hint of a smile on his lips and the heat rising to his cheeks.

“Do you have 11 protons?

'Cause you’re sodium fine

We’ve got chemistry together, babe

Say you’ll be mine.”

All the boys applauded loudly and cheered but Cameron, who just kept staring at Charlie with his arms still crossed, now unable to keep the smile from his face. “And I thought you didn’t pay attention in chemistry,” he said.

“Only for you, Cam,” said Charlie. He smiled then, and for once, it was sincere.


End file.
